


The Whipping Girl

by kanadka



Series: have a holly jao-ly christmas [1]
Category: The Course of Empire - Eric Flint
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanadka/pseuds/kanadka
Summary: Caitlin's struggles with the bane of her existence, throughout her youth.
Series: have a holly jao-ly christmas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086407
Comments: 7
Kudos: 4
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	The Whipping Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Athaia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athaia/gifts).



In the house, Caitlin Stockwell was never so far away that she couldn't hear her father's discussions, and so she wound up hearing a lot more than her father realised. Certainly more than he would have liked. By the age of six, she knew some choice curse words. Not because she had heard them on the playground and tried them out at home and was punished by her parents for it. Tutors came to the Stockwell residence, and not the other way around, so Caitlin had never been to a proper school. Rather, Caitlin knew because she had asked her tutor and the tutor had told her what pejoratives were.

"But," Caitlin said, "what about anything where you don't like that person? If you say, 'hey, you Banle', and you're mean about it, does that make it as bad as 'hey, you asshole'?"

"Caitlin, honey, don't say such things," said Mr Smith, her current tutor. 

Banle, as always, watched from the corner. Her eyes did not leave Caitlin.

Mr Smith turned and threw Banle a nervous grin. "Of course, there's nothing wrong with being a Banle," he joked.

Banle said nothing, and not one whisker in her stony sealion face twitched.

"Hmm. Well, I think so," decided Caitlin. "I think there's plenty wrong with being a Banle, and I'm happier to be a Caitlin."

Banle had, by this point, figured out that hitting Caitlin was not always easy, because she had to use a lighter hand on her or President Stockwell would be very upset, which would aggravate Governor Oppuk. Also because Caitlin could be grievously harmed because, in Banle's words, she was nothing more than a weak little crecheling.

Banle exacted her revenge for Caitlin's impudence on Mr Smith. Mr Smith quit his job, so Caitlin got a new tutor.

***

According to her father and his very important conversations that he held behind the closed door that really did not hide anything, going to school _was_ important, for socialisation reasons. As ninth grade dawned and she turned thirteen, he began making calls to local institutions. Caitlin knew she should be excited to go, and part of her was, but a larger part dreaded it. 

But it had taken some careful doing for her father to organise this, and Caitlin felt she should be grateful, she should look forward to it.

"You know, dear," said her father to her, "you should be allowed to be around kids your age. Get to know kids your age. And learn from them, too."

Caitlin, unknowingly, was already making the posture for doubtful-apprehension. 

"Be nice to be a little more human," her father said, uneasily.

So Caitlin went.

***

Most of the other students were fascinated by Banle - they had never seen a Jao up close, only on TV or online, and although Banle ignored them all, they crowded around her until there were too many there to easily push through the crowd.

Caitlin, of course, was walking in front of Banle, occupying the position of lower importance, as always, and none of the other students found her very interesting. So she wound up wandering just out of Banle's sight. This was not exactly by accident. For a sacred moment she was alone... just like any of these kids, alone and normal and unobserved...

Until Caitlin heard a sharp yell and a few cries. Someone screamed. Caitlin looked back to find that Banle had barged through the barricade of high schoolers without much regard for them, and one boy had fallen, clutching a bloody nose. 

Hm. Maybe Banle was on a nice day. After all, she could've given him a concussion, whiplash, cracked a vertebra. Banle's mercy didn't come with compassion.

"Hey, can't you control your _pet alien_ ," grumbled the boy.

Banle whirled back, her fist raised.

Caitlin caught it before she could commit the blow. "Please, Banle," she said.

Banle shoved her roughly away, and Caitlin sprawled out hard on the ground. Banle _loathed_ a direct touch - every Jao Caitlin had ever met did - and Caitlin knew that, but there wasn't any other way to get Banle to stop.

Banle bent, lifting her hand again, and Caitlin shut her eyes and turned her head away in anticipation -

"If we're finished here," said a voice from the side. "We have order to preserve in this institution."

A woman, about mid-forties, stood there, plain and bookish, with thick glasses.

"I will _say_ when we are finished," said Banle. "There is a lesson to be learnt here."

The woman blinked once, slowly, and said nothing. Her posture was - but this couldn't be on purpose - a human rendition of respectful-attention.

"Useless," snarled Banle, and she stalked off to Caitlin's side. "To your feet," she said, and booted Caitlin in the calf until she scrambled up and shuffled away.

***

English class was very awkward. Ms Denahie, the bookish woman with the glasses, led the class, or attempted to. Everybody was silent, which judging from the teacher's countenance, was a new thing. 

Banle, standing guard in the back, glowered the whole way. Members of the class looked back to steal glances of her from time to time - Caitlin could feel the weight of their eyes, and Banle's on Caitlin, all the while. Fifteen minutes went by as Ms Denahie struggled to introduce one of Shakespeare's plays. (Caitlin herself was hardly paying attention. A tragedy? A comedy? Who knew.)

It was distracting enough that it became difficult to teach the class, and Ms Denahie said at last, in exasperation, "Miss Stockwell, I understand that part of the condition of your attendance at this institution was if you wouldn't mind - would it be at all possible for your bodyguard to remain outside during the lecture?"

"Negative," said Banle. 

"It's disrupting the class," said Ms Denahie.

"Then learn concentration," said Banle. 

That was not the answer Ms Denahie was looking for, and she gave a soft impatient huff. "Well, _we_ can't work like this, and I understand you people need to know the use of things, so I'll ask you, what exactly would be the use of a class full of students who don't wind up getting an education because of _your_ mandatory presence?"

"What you teach isn't very useful," said Banle. "This tripe is nothing but fabrication and unsanity. Barely readable, and what's readable is of little value."

This drew some titters from the class, and visibly piqued Ms Denahie's ire. 

"How _dare_ you, don't you people come in here and dictate enough? You don't know a thing about our culture," said Ms Denahie. She took a step towards Banle.

"Perhaps I will make special mention of your 'culture' to the Narvo Governor in my next report," added Banle, "so that I may be certain he will readjust your curriculum."

"The less intelligent thought, the better for drone soldiers for your jinau forces?" asked Ms Denahie, an icy sarcastic tone creeping into her voice. 

Banle lowered her voice to a hiss and replied, "Indeed." But there was little vocal tone conveyed in the Jao utterance, it was all about the posture - that was where the emotion hid, where the sentiment lay - and Banle's ears had gone flat and her whiskers twitched and her shoulders had drawn up to make three lines on her neck stand out. Caitlin had seen that posture before - it was promise-of-threat. Banle didn't even have to give the teacher the courtesy of a hand lifted for a blow, she was quick enough to deal one out without needing the wind-up. Caitlin knew from experience. 

Caitlin slammed her hands on the desk and shouted, "Stop it, Banle! That's enough!"

It was almost worth it for the flash of anger that for one small sacred moment she was permitted to indulge in. An honest emotion, unfettered.

Banle _did_ stop, but she turned to Caitlin. "You do not command Jao," she spat. Promise-of-threat had become rage-revulsion.

"Well, if you're going to hit someone, hit _me_ ," Caitlin said, "she just wants to teach." And then she added, viciously, under her breath so that only Banle with those big ears could hear her, so that Banle would _have_ to go for her and not others, "Anyway, you're just angry you can't appreciate it like a human because you don't have fiction on whatever godawful pondworld they kicked you out of. Maybe we'll read it anyway and you won't know."

Banle did hit her, in full view of the class, a broad slap upside the head that had Caitlin's vision swimming. Then a second, and a third, on the shoulders, and a few more until Caitlin had stopped flinching for them, because there was a rhythm to her blows, and all she had to do was wait for it to be over.

The class looked on in starkly horrified silence.

"This is for your education," announced Banle. " _All_ of your education. Now you are all more properly aware of who is in charge. You will continue the class. Or she will receive your punishment again. And I recommend your lessons be of more practical use."

Ms Denahie put her copy of the play down and turned to the blackboard.

Caitlin lifted her head weakly from her desk. She poked around with her tongue at her gums. One tooth was a little loose. Her father wouldn't like that, but Banle wouldn't care. 

Now Banle knew Caitlin had already learned her place. She knew Caitlin had forced her hand in drawing the fire; it was an obvious enough ruse that she couldn't ignore. And if Banle had _really_ wanted to make a broad point about Jao and respect, she would have singled out any one of the other classmates - or perhaps Ms Denahie herself, for speaking out in the first place - and done the same thing. And none of them were used to Banle.

After all, with Jao, the lesson was considered most effectively learnt by the on-lookers. Sometimes one made oneself of use as an example.

***

"...I see. Well - ... no. ... yes, I understand. Maybe we could possibly - alright. Well, if there are any more openings... right. Well, do let me know. Thank you, good-bye."

Her father was hanging up the phone as Caitlin approached, her looming, fuzzy, whiskered, alien, brutal shadow dogging her steps. He gave her a doleful look, then looked up at Banle with a carefully fixed expression, then back at Caitlin. He could clearly see the scab on the side of her mouth and it clearly irked him. He said nothing and that clearly irked him too.

"Dad, maybe you can find me another tutor?" asked Caitlin. "I don't think I'll go again. Don't really think school's for me."

"No," said Ben Stockwell, a little sadly. "No, I guess it isn't."


End file.
